It was there—sitting on my beach towel, burnt to a crisp, my hair stringy and wet, sand in every possible crevice, a dog’s hot breath in my face—that my gaze lingered, catching full sight of him. A soft curl of shaving cream swirled under my nose. I looked up and gasped, resting my eyes on the most beautiful human being ever.
His full lips held me, and his shock of thick black hair fell in waves over his head. He had a body that I was sure entered most girl’s dreams at one point or another …as in all of the time. The shaded stubble on his face was accented by dark sunglasses.
The muscle above my top lip twitched, and my skin tingled with voltaic sensations. I scratched at my arms, the itching already starting.
His smile curled my toes.
“Whoops, sorry about that.” His deep voice oozed sweet, sexy politeness with just a touch of Southern inflection. “Hope it didn’t hit you.”
I cleared my throat, preparing to make it sound its utmost best. Usually, this backfired on me and croaked out like a drunken frog. “No, not at all.” Ugh, yep …horrible, that frog had done it again.My stomach welled with nausea. Fighting to find the right words, I handed the saucer back to him, and a slight quiver quaked through me when my hand brushed his.